Give Me Strength (39 page)

The door opened. “Everything okay?” Travis
asked, his eyes on me first.

“I should get going,” Seth said.

“You can’t stay?”

He looked from Travis to me. “Maybe next time. I
just wanted to see where you worked, but I’ll see you both tomorrow
anyway, right? The family’s looking forward to meeting you
both.”

I was nervous and excited, but mostly nervous,
and maybe a little bit sick. I’d planned a day of baking tomorrow,
trying out a new recipe: orange and almond cake. I’d planned to
bake extra because I thought it might be something Jared would
like. Also, part of my shopping expedition today had been a
“finding the right outfit to wear to meet the family you never knew
you had and really wanted them to like you.”

“They’re gonna love you,” Seth told me, no doubt
seeing fear in my eyes. “Promise.”

With a kiss to my forehead and nod towards
Travis, Seth left.

“You knew he was leaving.”

Travis leaned down and picked me up. I wrapped
my legs around him and he sank back into the couch.

“I did,” he agreed. “He told me today. He was
worried it would upset you.”

“Did he tell you he also quit his job?”

Travis looked at me with some surprise, his
brows raising a little, so I told him what Seth told me.

When I finished, Travis said, “Maybe he could
come work with us.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Seth said you were a bunch of cowboys which
probably means he doesn’t think you’re as all that as I think you
are.”

“As long as you think I’m
all that
, then
that’s all that matters.”

I brushed a kiss against his smiling lips.

“Now, back to this morning. Why the tears?” I
sighed and he laughed. “You said you loved that I didn’t let shit
go. Having a change of heart?”

I pursed my lips. “No.”

“Then…?”

“Because I realised that this was my life
now.”

“And that made you cry?”

“Yes.” I knew it would sound stupid, but how do
you explain that you were crying because you were happy without it
sounding lame when the tears felt anything but. “Somehow, even
after everything I’ve been through, I feel like a very lucky
person.”

Travis nodded and his eyes crinkled. “Because
you have me.”

I held his face in my palms. “Because I have
you.”

***

The alarm blared like a
fucking freight train, and I rolled over and slammed it with my
fist. The noise died a fast and satisfying death. Happy, I rolled
back over, dragging Quinn towards me and wrapping my arm around her
middle.

I slept naked and the best part about that was
Quinn did too. Frowning, my hand patted her belly and I realised
she was wearing her cotton robe. Not only that, the knot she’d tied
was tight enough to make it impenetrable to my searching hands. The
closest bit of naked skin I could find was the back of her neck.
Her pale blonde hair tickled my nose as I leaned in and tasted it
with my lips and tongue. I nipped the skin lightly with my teeth,
just the way I knew she liked it.

She moaned and rolled towards me, the cotton
robe gaping open slightly at her thighs from the movement. Happy,
my hands found the smooth, naked skin and trekked their way
upwards. Still sleeping, she wriggled towards me, and it was all I
could do not to growl in pleasure. Even when my arms were wrapped
around her as tight as I dared on her slight frame, it never felt
close enough.

Feather light, her hands trailed down my chest,
her fingernails scraping my nipples just the way she knew I liked
it. I closed my eyes, groaning softly and growing hard at her
touch.

A pounding fist came at the front door, and
Quinn’s hands stilled. “Tell me it’s not Saturday morning.”

“It’s not Saturday morning.”

She burrowed further into my chest, unable to
open her eyes to greet the early hour. “You’re lying,” she
mumbled.

“I don’t lie.”

The lips she currently had pressed into my neck
curved in a smile. “You have a tell.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Everybody does. That’s what you told me.”

Rolling Quinn over, I pinned her arms to the bed
and ground my hips into hers, making sure she knew I was hard and I
wanted her.

“Except me. Did I forget to mention that?”

I touched my lips to hers and smiled against
them as she strained upwards into my touch, making me harder if
that was possible.

The pounding at the door came again.

“Dammit, Quinn! I know you’re awake,” came the
muffled yell.

“Will you forgive me if I strangle Lucy, weigh
her body down and let her sink to the bottom of the ocean?”

“Are you kidding?” she groaned into my neck.
“I’ll supply the cement bricks. I know exactly where I can get
some.”

She was, of course, referring to the leftover
blocks from our newly constructed rendered fence. We’d moved into
Coby’s house a year ago. During that time, to much protest by Evie,
Mac, and even Quinn, who rarely protested about anything, I bought
us a dilapidated four bedroom house in Manly Vale. I liked to think
I was smarter than Jared though, and our renovations were
undertaken over the six months we lived at Coby’s house before we
moved in.

“Maybe we can just pretend we’re not home,” I
said with a small degree of hope.

Quinn rolled from beneath me, swinging her legs
over the edge of the bed she sat up, looking back at me over her
shoulder. I loved Quinn’s back. Seemed an odd body part to fall in
love with, but her hair was short enough I could see the delicate
line of her neck and it led down a creamy satin expanse of skin to
an ass I never got tired of watching or holding in my hands. I
frowned because in this instance she was wrapped up like Fort
bloody Knox, and I couldn’t see anything, making this a really
shitty start to my day.

“That didn’t work the last time we tried,
remember?
You’re
the one that bought a house just two blocks
away from where Rick and Lucy bought their house.”

“Maybe we can play the blame game. She’s
your
friend.”

Quinn raised a brow as she dragged her sweet,
delicious body out of bed. “
Our
friend.”

I reached out to drag her back, but she danced
from my reach and waggled the ring finger of her left hand,
diamonds glinting every which way in the morning light. My lips
curved in a smile of pure male satisfaction at the sight, even
while she was smirking at me. “We joined forces in case you forgot.
Everything became
ours.
Including Lucy.”

That was true. Quinn was now my wife, and I
never got tired of introducing her to everyone that way. Mrs.
Valentine. This is my wife, Quinn Valentine. It suited her, being
mine. The wedding, according to Quinn, was going to be nothing like
Jared and Evie’s. Theirs had blown out to major proportions. It
hadn’t helped that Evie was now being recognised wherever she went.
Magazines wanted scoops and access to her private life. Quinn
didn’t want the show. She tried to rope me into it by asking what I
wanted, but I wasn’t stupid. Whatever she wanted was what I
wanted—as long as she was happy. That wasn’t the right answer
apparently. According to Mac, I needed to have an
opinion.
So I asked Mac what Quinn wanted. Mac told me she wanted a quiet
wedding, close family only. So I told Quinn I wanted a quiet
wedding. “You don’t want a big wedding?” she’d asked me with wide
eyes. I looked helplessly at Mac. I thought the problem was fixed.
Had Quinn changed her mind and wanted a big wedding? It was all too
hard. It seemed to be universal that when we told women we wanted
whatever they wanted, they didn’t believe us, but it was true. Our
lives were happy when they were happy. Happy equals happy. Simple
math. Women liked to complicate it by dragging algebra and long
division into the equation.

In the end we had our quiet wedding. Jared stood
on my right and Lucy on Quinn’s left. Quinn had daisies wound
through her pinned hair and a white lace dress that flared out to
her knees. She was simply perfect.

Propped up on one elbow, my focus immersed in
her, she peeled off the pink robe and replaced it—entirely too
quickly—with her jogging gear. She propped a leg up on the corner
chair, the one that was great for flinging all my clothes on, and
started lacing up her shoes before furrowing her brow at me in
worry.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be—”

I cut her off. “Yes! We’ll be fine.” A kitchen
cupboard opened and then slammed closed and my brows flew up in
disbelief. “You gave her a key?”

She shrugged. “Just for emergencies.”

Sighing heavily, I swung my legs over the edge
of the bed. Scratching idly at my chest, I said dryly, “I can see
how this morning’s jog could constitute an emergency where Lucy
would need to breach the premises.”

Her eyes tracked the movement of my hand as it
rubbed lazily over my chest and my lids lowered a little. “See
something you like?”

“Quinn! Hurry up,” Lucy yelled from somewhere in
the vicinity of the kitchen.

I stood up and waved her away when she
hesitated. “Go. The sooner you leave, the sooner I get you back.
Take your phone,” I added. Never could be too careful.

“I can take care of myself, you know,” she
called out over her shoulder as she left the room.

“Not unless you find a few stray chairs along
the sidewalk to whack people over the head with as you jog on by,”
I called back teasingly.

Lucy must have heard me because she let out a
shout of laughter then it followed with a muffled “ouch.”

“Are you sure you got this on your own?” Quinn
called out from the front door as I shuffled towards the
ensuite.

“Yes! Just relax!” I yelled back.

An hour later, Quinn returned to chaos.

I was sure I had it. How hard was it supposed to
be?

It was just unfortunate the yard had yet to be
renovated along with the house. With the light rain this morning
over the mud pit that constituted our backyard, Rufus had broken
through the back door and trekked it all through the gleaming
timber floors. Shaking his fur, mud spatters covered various cream
painted walls throughout the house.

Breakfast had seen me go through four different
cereals until the favourite of the day had been chosen, leaving
milk and flakes scattered on the bench, floor, and breakfast table,
along with the dishes from my eggs on toast. Cartoons blared at
dangerous levels from the television, and a trail of toys littered
the living room floor. Stuck indoors, the decision to move on to
forts had been made. That involved shifting the couch and dining
chairs to create tunnels and covering them with all the plush
blankets Quinn kept for guests.

Quinn chose that moment to return—shutting the
front door just as I got too vigorous demonstrating how to kick a
soccer goal, broke the blinds, and watched them crash to the floor.
What was I supposed to do with it raining outside?

Sam let out a giggle.

Quinn’s mouth fell open as she stared.

So did mine.

Sam hadn’t uttered a word the entire week we’d
been taking care of him. At three years old, he’d watched his
father overdose and die and his mother almost follow. She was in
the hospital, but it wasn’t looking good for her. Sam was the first
kid in our care since we’d signed up as foster parents six months
ago—the first thing we did when we moved into our Manly Vale home.
The process had taken that long. Six months of paperwork, screening
checks, home interviews, training, and home inspections.

It was looking likely that Sam may be with us
for a while. Quinn and I had talked about adoption, but we knew we
had to be able to establish a stable, long term relationship so the
process might take some time. Though with the possibility of Sam’s
mother being mentally unstable, the Supreme Court could move
proceedings along that much faster. We wanted to be free to love
Sam without the fear of having to let him go. Sam was endearing and
hesitant and little, just like Quinn, with his choppy short blond
hair and dark hazel eyes. It would take time and love and stability
for him to be able to use the voice that was shocked right out of
him. I’d been encouraging him to draw his feelings with pictures,
but just now, his giggle was the first sound we’d heard.

Quinn cleared her throat and looked at me.
Immediately I knew the mess and the damage to the blinds was
already forgiven. I grinned. We talked about the fact that when Sam
started to verbalise again we were not to make a big deal of it so
that he’d feel comfortable.

Even with the emotion running riot across
Quinn’s face, I could see her force a smile through imminent tears,
put her hands on her hips and say, “Well. What a mess, huh?” and it
made me so fucking proud of her.